


Red Tattoos of Fate

by myhomeboy_stilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst, Boys Being Boys, Curses, Happy Ending, Jealous Derek, M/M, Magical Tattoos, New York City, Red String of Fate, Slow Build, Soulmates, Spark!Stiles, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhomeboy_stilinski/pseuds/myhomeboy_stilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles received his Red Tattoo at the age of 16, and he couldn't have been more ecstatic.<br/>It was just too bad that his soulmate wasn't into him, romantically speaking.</p><p>“Well, this is certainly a first in the family,” Derek spoke over Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles pulled back so that Derek could see his questioning look. “No Hale has ever had a platonic bonding.”</p><p>***<br/>When Stiles finds a spell that could break the bond and set him free from his unrequited love, things become a little more complicated and convoluted.<br/>Seriously, it's just Stiles' luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> You have Ariisa to thank (or blame) for this. And you absolutely have her to thank for the beautiful (and I mean fucking perfect) title image and line breakers!!

“Stiles, I-I can’t do this…this…this is insane!”

_SLAP_

“Uhm, first of all, ow! Second of all, what kind of person slaps people?”

Stiles fell back against the driver’s seat of his jeep, ‘n deep sigh bubbling up from his chest.

“The kind of person trying to calm down their best friend who’s hyperventilating because they’re about to make the best decision of their entire life.” Stiles shut down his car – they hadn’t even made it halfway down the driveway before Scott had his little freak-out.

“I think handing Allison that crayon was the best decision of my entire life,” Scott mumbled.

“Oh for fuck's sake,“ Stiles trailed off, resigned, “Yes, yes. Finding your soulmate was a good one, but come on, Scott, that was fate. Your bonding with Allison didn’t hinge on your decision to lend her a freaking crayon.”

“Yeah, but it sure made it happen sooner.”

Stiles sighed again, but he couldn’t argue against Scott.

 

Scott had received his Red Tattoo of Fate at the tender age of 5.

Stiles still remembered the day clearly, since it had been the first bonding he had ever witnessed.

He had been drawing a picture, Scott by his side, in their kindergarten class when a small girl with curly brown hair and dimples had shyly asked Scott for the red crayon he was using.

Once the two preschoolers had brushed their hands against each other, they had fallen to the floor, convulsing.

Stiles had watched in rapt fascination and bubbling horror as the red lines (awfully similar to blood) had appeared on their upper arms. The lines had slithered and spun until they wove together, forming two thick bands around Scott and the girl’s arms.

 

“Okay, alright. I am willing to concede that finding your soulmate and getting your Red Tattoo is a big deal, but, Scott, today is huuuuuugggeee!” Stiles pumped his fist in the air, smiling like a lunatic. “So, stop freaking out and remember that it was Allison’s idea in the first place.”

Scott brightened, “That’s true, and Allison would never allow anything bad to happen to me!”

Stiles flipped the ignition and pulled the gears into reverse.

“That’s the spirit, buddy!” Stiles said, as he backed out of the driveway and set out for the preserve. “Never mind that your best bud, Stiles, would never put you in danger. Anyway, you know the risks. All of them were clearly put in your contract – seriously, man, this has been coming for months.” Stiles glanced at his best friend, only to see a sheepish grin aimed his way. “You didn’t read the contract, did you?” Scott shook his head. “God, how have you ever survived without me?”

The rest of the ride to the preserve Stiles slowly and carefully explained every detail in Scott’s contract – how the kid could have ever signed the damn important thing without reading it escaped Stiles’ mind. Scott _did_ seem to build up some confidence the longer Stiles spoke though (being informed was apparently easing his mind a little, the dumbass).

“You got this, man!” Stiles smiled, fondly. “I’m gonna be there for you.”

“Thanks, Stiles. Really. I wouldn’t have even stepped out of my bed this morning if it hadn’t been for you. I just wish Mom and Allison could be here.”

Scott’s mom was scheduled for a shift at the hospital and the contract Scott had signed cost the McCall household a pretty penny – which meant Mrs. McCall couldn’t afford to take a day off. Allison’s parents didn’t exactly agree with Scott’s choice and had thus banned Allison from joining.

Stiles turned onto the Hale driveway, nerves spiking with second-hand anxiety.

“It’s going to be great, man. Just imagine, you’ll be able to play lacrosse without the danger of death by asphyxiation.”

Stiles finally came to the end of the ridiculously lengthy driveway and stopped the Jeep next to a flashy Camaro. He looked up at the mansion of a house and whistled.

“Damn, Scott. If this is the result of turning into a werewolf, sign me up.”

Scott gave Stiles a weak smile before slowly climbing out of the car. Stiles jumped out after him and together they climbed the stairs to the porch.

A beautiful, older woman opened the door before they could knock. Her hair was raven black, her eyes multi-colored and her teeth pearly-white. It was Talia Hale.

“You must be Scott,” she said as she held her hand out for Scott to shake. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled and Stiles decided that he very much liked her. “And you must be the Sheriff’s son, Stiles.” Her grip was authoritative as she shook Stiles’ sweaty hand. Stiles couldn’t help but be slightly embarrassed, but he nodded. “My name is Talia Hale. Come in, please.” She turned around and walked into the house.

“You okay, buddy?” Stiles eyed Scott’s pale complexion, worrying.

“Yeah, fine,” Scott swallowed, and then attempted a smile. “She seems nice.”

They walked inside and into the entrance hall where the foyer opened up and extended into the living room. The space was filled with six occupants. Stiles already knew each and every face as he wasn’t about to put his best friend’s life in the hands of strangers. On an armchair sat Thomas Hale, he was less imposing than his wife, but he still exuded authority. Talia was standing behind Thomas’ seat, a soft and welcoming smile on her face. Dr. Deaton, Scott’s boss, the local veterinarian, as well as a government official who oversaw the proceedings, was seated on another armchair. On the couch, squished together and not looking particularly happy about it, sat the three Hale siblings. Cora sat closest to Stiles and Scott, glaring at the floor and refusing to acknowledge them. Laura was in the middle. She was to be the next Alpha in the Hale line and Stiles could already see the beginnings of a leader. Lastly was Derek Hale, arguably the most beautiful creature Stiles had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Derek already seemed bored with the proceedings as he tapped on his knee with a clawed finger.

“Scott,” Deaton stood up from his seat. He looked at Talia for a brief second and after a nod from the Alpha he began to speak. “You are here because you have signed a binding contract in which you have requested The Bite from your local Alpha. The Department of Supernatural Affairs has seen it fit to allow you to receive The Bite because of health issues. Your local Alpha is Talia Hale. Once Alpha Hale gives you The Bite, you are a part of the Hale pack. Do you understand the possible repercussions of The Bite?” Scott nodded. “Do you accept that Talia Hale of the Hale Pack will be your Alpha?” Another nod. “Do you promise to serve and protect the Hale pack?” Scott muttered a soft ‘yes’.

“Good.” Deaton turned to Talia. “Alpha Hale, as the local Alpha you have accepted the responsibility of giving The Bite to chosen humans. As an Alpha it is expected that you ensure the safety of your pack and others. You are given the responsibility of biting Scott McCall. Do you understand the repercussions of The Bite?”

Talia nodded, “I do.”

“Do you accept full responsibility over Scott McCall as your Beta?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to help Scott McCall control himself to ensure the safety of your pack and others?”

“I do.”

“Well, then,” Deaton clapped his hands, smiling ominously. “It seems there is only one thing left to do.”

After a few moments of discussion, it was decided that only Scott, Talia and Deaton were going to be present for the biting. The three left the room after Stiles fiercely hugged his friend, refusing to think that it might be their last hug.

Stiles took Deaton’s seat.

“He will be fine,” Thomas Hale spoke up. He already had a book in his hand, as if he was settling in for the long haul. Stiles nodded his head, the lump in his throat threatening to break his words if he were to speak.

Stiles lifted his head to see that the Hale children were looking at him. Cora seemed huffy, Laura curious and Derek had his eyes narrowed, as if he was concentrating on something, as if Stiles was a puzzle to be solved. Stiles shivered at the intense look. His eyes seemed to be stuck on Derek’s, taking in the beautiful hazel and blue colors.

The staring contest continued until an expected noise resonated through the house.

Stiles looked up at the ceiling, fear curling around his heart at the sound of Scott’s scream.

 

In the end, everything went better than expected. Scott turned and under the Hale’s tutelage he quickly gained control of his wolf.

Stiles became a regular at the Hale house and nobody questioned his presence. He quickly built a report with each and every Hale. He won over Talia’s heart with his baking skills. Thomas liked Stiles’ intellect and knowledge about books. Laura found Stiles adorable and funny. Stiles listened to the same music Cora did. And Derek…god…Derek just seemed fond of Stiles.

Stiles didn’t exactly know what made Derek fond of him, but he wasn’t going to question it. The only thing Stiles wished was that Derek would become a little more than fond - if you know what I mean.

 

It was three weeks after Scott’s transformation and Stiles was curled up on the couch watching television at the Hale house.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school, pipsqueak?” Derek mocked, strolling into the room and settling on the other side of the couch.

“You know it’s summer break, douchebag. Otherwise you would have been on the other side of the country, learning all there is to learn about Lycanthropic History,” Stiles said, without looking away from the television. Derek was studying at NYU and was an official senior come August.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy? I bet you wish you could be doing something cool like studying Lycanthropes instead of being stuck at high school. How many years until you do something useful?”

Stiles chucked a pillow at Derek’s face. “Shut the fuck up, you know I’m a sophomore in August.”

“Aww, poor little Stiles still needs to wait three years.”

Stiles aimed a kick at Derek, but Derek caught his leg at his ankle, hand wrapped around Stiles’ jean. Stiles froze.

For three weeks, Stiles had secretly pined for Derek, dreaming about touching him and receiving the bond. And now, Derek’s hand was mere inches away from Stiles’ bare feet. Stiles quickly pulled his leg back. He would rather not have his dreams totally and utterly crushed if Derek touched him and nothing happened.

“What up, losers?” Laura sauntered into the room and quickly dropped into the space between Derek and Stiles. “Yay, Community is on, motherfuckers.” She grabbed the remote and increased the volume. Stiles clutched at his chest, willing his racing heart to calm the fuck down.

When Stiles looked up, Derek was staring at him, his brow furrowed and head tilted in an adorable confused puppy way. Stiles quickly averted his gaze.

“Hey, can you hand over that magazine?” Laura pointed at a Cosmo spread open on the middle of the table. Not knowing who she was addressing, Derek and Stiles both leaned to grab it.

Stiles’ first thought was that Derek’s hand was hot as hell and then…

A tingle started at Stiles’ hand, spreading and numbing his entire arm before it reached his chest. His heart sped up, his vision went foggy and he couldn’t stop himself from falling off the couch. He was shaking – his body struggling to adjust to the sharp, pleasant pings. He was warm all over and it felt a lot like a cloud was hugging and enveloping him. A hot molten feeling spread from the base of his spine up to the upper middle of his back – the feeling shifted there, turning into a cool stroke, leaving Stiles shivering.

Suddenly, he felt as if a latch opened in his very soul and a bright _bright_ Spark lit up. He could feel another presence surrounding the spark, twisting and weaving to form a protective layer. It might sound silly, but Stiles could almost taste the other presence, and if he were to describe it, he would say it tasted a lot like Derek.

The feeling started to rescind, not disappearing, but dulling down to a level that didn’t cause Stiles to shake.

Stiles opened his eyes and was met with five very familiar, very excited faces.

“Dude,” Scott breathed out, “You bonded.”

Scott was the only one Stiles confided in and was thus the first to know about his crush on Derek.

God, Stiles was bonded. To Derek freaking Hale. Could he get a hallelujah?

“Welcome to the pack, son.” Thomas held out his hand for Stiles to grab onto.

“Come on, Thomas. I’ve been pack since Scott was bitten.” Stiles allowed Thomas to hoist him up before turning around. Derek was up and he was staring at Stiles with a beaming smile. He held out his arms and within seconds Stiles was burrowed into them. Stiles pushed his face into the crook of Derek’s neck and inhaled _leather, tea and books._

“Well, this is certainly a first in the family,” Derek spoke over Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles pulled back so that Derek could see his questioning look. “No Hale has ever had a platonic bonding.”

Stiles’ heart split – one piece lodging in his throat and the other dropping into his shoes. Platonic soulmates were possible, but rare. It meant that there were no romantic feelings between the soulmates, instead they become best friends, confidants and family.

Derek Hale essentially thought of Stiles as his clumsy, lanky socially-awkward cousin, or something.

Great.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who started supporting this story, every kudo, comment, bookmark and subscription warms the cockles of my heart.  
> This is only a filler chapter - and I'm not happy with it - but bare with me.

**Three Years Later**

“Alright, pipsqueak, let’s see it,” Derek’s voice crackled over Stiles’ computer speakers. Stiles jumped up from his bed and grabbed the manila envelope on his desk. When he sat back down, he shifted the angle from his laptop to ensure that his face was in the center of the screen.

“Here it is,” Stiles breathed out, waving the envelope in the air. He felt his nerves spike.

“Hey,” Derek spoke softly, moving closer to his laptop screen. “Whatever happens, you still have me, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fact that Derek’s words were melting his heart.

“Yeah, but come on, Derek…what’s more useful? You or a degree in Emissary Training at the best supernatural university in the country?” He teased.

“Ouch, you wound me, pipsqueak.” Derek moved back, reclining on his bed and creating a picture perfect scene – his muscles were straining the sleeves of his Henley and he looked all relaxed and sleep-rumpled and adorable. Stiles missed him – a lot. “Open it.”

Stiles nervously toyed with the envelope, his heartbeat rising.

“It feels like you’re going to have a heart attack,” Derek said, while his hand started rubbing his own chest. Stupid soul bond.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled, “I wish you didn’t have to feel it.”

“You had to suffer through my finals, so I think I can handle a little anxiety.” Derek grinned at him. “Open it,” he prompted again, his voice still gentle.

Stiles closed his eyes and counted to three before quickly ripping open the top of the envelope. He eyed Derek - whose eyes were wide in anticipation and who looked gorgeous in his excitement - as he slid the letter out. Stiles wanted to hug him, and kiss him, and maybe just climb him like a tree for a little bit.

“What’s it say?” Derek asked, not being one to delay gratification. Stiles looked down at the piece of paper. He waited another second to build suspense before lifting his eyes and staring at Derek.

“I guess you’re looking at a new emissary-in-training,” he finally said, his smile splitting his face in two.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed, his eyes sparkling and his gaze proud. “I knew you’d get in. They would’ve been idiots-“ He trailed off, still looking at Stiles in awe. Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. “Excited?” Derek asked, not knowing that Stiles was in love with his goofy face.

“Yeah, though this means we’re living on opposite sides of the country for another year.”

Stiles was going to be attending the Supernatural University of California, while Derek was starting his PhD at NYU in Lycanthropic History.

“Yeah, whose fault is that?” Derek chuckled. “I personally think Columbia has a nice supernatural department.” Stiles laughed at that.

“If I want to be a Hale emissary one day, I need to be studying at the best place there is, and we both know that’s not Columbia.”

“You’d always be _my_ emissary whether you suck or not.” Derek grinned.

“Shut up!” Stiles melted once more. “God, you’re cheesy.” He didn’t actually mind it at all. In fact, he wished Derek would be cheesy every day, all day, for the rest of their lives.

“Only for you,” Derek teased, “Anyway, you’re on the same flight as the others, right?”

Stiles relaxed, glad that the subject was changing, because – unfortunately – Derek _still_ had no romantic interest in him. The faux-flirting simultaneously thrilled Stiles and made him want to curl up into a tiny ball and cry.

“Yeah, Dad and I are having dinner at the house to finalize some stuff – and also they want to know if I got in or not.” Stiles waved the acceptance letter again. “I think your mom knows though, she kept on giving me these looks this week.”

In hindsight, Stiles was pretty sure Talia knew – he kept on catching her staring and grinning at him. It’s also not like it would’ve been a problem for her to find out, because there isn’t anyone more influential and well-connected then Talia Hale.

“Probably,” Derek snorted. “Okay, so I’ll see you Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah, soon, Sourwolf.”

Stiles stared at Derek’s image on the screen for a moment, and it was only his dad calling his name that broke the spell.

“Bye, Stiles.”

Derek grinned once more, soft, relaxed and absolutely beautiful, before he ended the call.

“You got in!” Laura shouted the moment Stiles and his dad entered the Hale house. She grabbed Stiles around his middle and scooped him into the air.

“Laura,” Cora complained from the stairs’ vicinity. “Mom said he was supposed to tell us before we say something.”

“It’s alright, Cor,” Stiles wheezed until Laura finally put him down. “I already figured your mom knew.”

“Well, it seems I’m the last to know, again,” his dad whined behind him. Stiles had kept a strict poker face during the ride, wanting to do the big reveal with the Hales present.

“Sorry, Dad.” Stiles hugged his father. “I thought they would have had the grace to allow me to announce it, but I should’ve known. They are Hales after all.”

“That they are.” His dad pulled away and ruffled Stiles’ hair. “I’m proud of you, son.” Stiles tried to swallow around the lump in his throat and when he didn’t succeed he just nodded. A loud _thwack_ broke the heavy atmosphere and Stiles turned around to see Talia Hale standing behind Laura – the latter rubbing her head.

“Laura Lee Hale, I told you not to ruin the surprise.” Stiles snickered at Laura’s grumpy face and Talia winked at Stiles, before waltzing closer and opening her arms for a hug. Without hesitation, Stiles stepped closer and reveled in the soft feeling of a mother’s arms. “Congratulations,” Talia whispered, rubbing her chin against Stiles’ hair and ears – scent marking him.

Once she had pulled away, she graciously asked Stiles’ dad if he wanted a drink and with a squeeze to Stiles’ shoulder the Sheriff followed the Alpha into the kitchen.

“Is Scott here?” Stiles asked, while slipping his jacket off. The question was somewhat redundant, because Stiles knew Scott would’ve been the first one to greet him at the door were he already there. Scott’s been part of the pack for two years, yet Stiles was still the one more comfortable with the Hales.

“Nope,” Cora popped the ‘p’, moving closer to Stiles from her previous position at the stairs.

“What, no ‘congrats’ from you?” Stiles stuck his tongue out, folding his jacket over his arm.

“Nah,” Cora answered, “I figured Derek gave you more than enough.” She smirked and danced forward to ruffle Stiles’ hair. In retaliation, he threw his jacket at her face. She caught it, lazily.

“For that, you can put my jacket away.”

Laura snorted, startling him when she suddenly moved over to the door, opening it a split second before Scott came barreling in.

“You made it!” Scott yelled, bounding over to Stiles like an overexcited puppy.

“How the he-“ Stiles was cut off as Scott wrapped him in a crushing bear-hug – sometimes the idiot forgot his werewolf strength. “How do you already know?” Stiles finally huffed out when Scott let go of him. HE also took the opportunity to glare at Laura (because she’s obviously the one more likely to spill).

“Don’t look at me!” Laura held her hands up, reiterating her innocence. At Stiles’ dubious look she left the room with a huff; Cora followed along, chuckling.

“Dude, you’re my best friend. I just know stuff like this.” Scott clapped Stiles’ back, grinning lopsidedly.

 

Dinner was a loud affair, as it always was in the Hale house. Talia broke out the champagne to a loud chorus of howls – Stiles and his dad joining with their own pathetic cries. Thomas spent most of the dinner telling Stiles about SUC, being an alumnus himself.

It had been a great surprise for Stiles and Scott to have found out that phoenixes exist. It had been an even greater surprise to find out that Thomas Hale was one. Thomas had graduated at the Supernatural University of California with a PhD in Supernatural Medicine and was currently working at Beacon County hospital, using his healing powers as a phoenix to help severely wounded or ill patients.

As dessert was served, the conversation turned towards Stiles and the Hales' trip.

“Stiles, honey, we’ll pick you up at seven, Monday,” Talia said as she dished a healthy spoonful of ice-cream into Stiles’ bowl.

“What time will you guys arrive on the other side?” The Sheriff piped up, shoveling a mountainous pile of ice-cream into his mouth. Stiles held back the disapproving comment – he’d allow the cheat this one time.

“About 3 p.m. the same day.” Talia sat down at the head of the table and started digging into her own dessert. “We booked a direct flight.” She smiled at Stiles. “Derek thinks we’re arriving Tuesday, so it’s going to be a surprise.” Derek wasn’t normally one for surprises, but Stiles knew him well enough to know that he would be ecstatic to find his family there sooner than he expected.

 “Damn it,” Scott pouted, “Why can’t I come along to see Derek’s graduation?” Everyone groaned - Scott had been complaining non-stop for the past month.

“We’ve been over this, Scotty.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “You have work and if you wanna get that summer internship, you have to show up.”

“Deaton will probably give me the internship no matter what,” Scott mumbled, but let the topic go.

“Stiles,” Thomas interjected after a while, staring out the window with a cocked head, “Is there a reason why your jacket is hanging from the oak tree in our garden?”

“What the hell?” Stiles jumped up from his chair. “Cora!”

“God, why is it so early?” Stiles slumped into the back seat. Laura snored in answer, her head lolling back against the seat. Cora was – as usual – ignoring him.

“Here you go, honey,” Talia spoke softly, holding out a cardboard to-go cup from McDonald’s from the front seat. Stiles had to swallow down the urge to call her mom. He thanked her with a grateful moan instead.

The drive to the airport was a relatively short and uneventful one. Laura drooled all over Stiles’ shoulder and Cora had earphones plugged in – Stiles could hear her music from his seat and he winced at how loud it must be for Cora’s werewolf ears. Though, Stiles supposed werewolf healing prevented a busted eardrum.

They checked in at the counter and spent another hour waiting to board. Stiles and Laura played I Spy, and Cora helped Stiles out when Laura picked things too far for the human eye to see. Thomas was reading a book, snorting at something he read every now and then and Talia was doing god-knows-what on her laptop.

When they finally started boarding the plane, Stiles’ phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Sourwolf:         Hey. Are you alright._

Derek had never really learned to correctly punctuate in texts.

_Ofc. Y?_

Laura nudged Stiles forward and with a small, embarrassed grin Stiles handed his boarding pass to the flight attendant who was waiting impatiently. His phone vibrated, but he waited until he was seated next to an already sleeping man to pull it out again.

_Sourwolf:_          _Your heart is racing. Also, it’s almost nine. You’re never awake this early._

Stiles leaned back with a groan.

“What’s wrong?” Laura’s head popped up from the seat in front of him, Cora joining her after a second.

“Your brother knows something’s up. Apparently my heart is racing more than it usually does.” He puts a palm over his chest and has to concede that his heart was pumping rather fast. Stiles was a nervous flyer and it was starting to show.

“Ugh, soulmates.” Cora wrinkled her nose and disappeared out of sight, bored with the conversation. Stiles’ phone vibrated again.

_Sourwolf:         Stiles? Is everything okay?_

Stiles shot Laura a panicked glance.

“Just make something up.” Laura waved a dismissive hand at Stiles.

“Your brother always knows when I’m lying!”

“That’s because he can usually feel your heart skip a beat, but now it’s beating so fast, he probably won’t catch it.”

He took a deep breath and quickly typed, _Hd a nghtmre. Am ok nw :)_

“ _Are_ you okay?” Laura frowned at him.

“Yeah, just a bit nervous.”

She smiled sympathetically.

“Ma’am, could you please take your seat?” A flight attendant appeared out of nowhere, startling them both. Laura grinned, flashing her canines.

“Of course, I’ll sit.” It amazed Stiles how Laura could make it sound as if it were her idea all along – she was really starting to act like an alpha.

 Stiles had to turn his phone off for take-off, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to answer any more texts from Derek, and he was sure there were going to be more, especially as his heart started beating twice as fast when the plane’s wheels lifted from the ground. Once the aircraft was in the air and stable and the seatbelt-sign went out, Talia stood up from her seat – to the front and left of Stiles’ – and handed Stiles her laptop.

“To take your mind off things.” Her eyes crinkled as she grinned. Stiles took the proffered laptop with a small smile, hands shaking slightly.

The plane ride didn’t seem to last that long when Stiles could spend most of it combing Talia’s computer for incriminating files – or at least for a clue as to what Talia’s job actually was (Stiles was rooting for Mafia boss). He didn’t find anything.

The landing was a little stressful again, but Stiles felt much better when his feet was on solid ground and he could switch his phone on. It buzzed for a minute straight.

_12 Messages and 5 Missed Calls._

11 of those texts were from Derek, each lengthier than the previous and ranging from messages such as: ‘ _Are you sure you are okay?’_ to a simple _‘Stiles.’_

The last message was from his dad, asking Stiles to let him know when they’ve arrived; Stiles sent him a quick text, before putting his phone away. Derek would have to wait until Stiles saw him in person.

Talia and Thomas left Laura, Cora and Stiles at the front doors to go claim the car they had hired (only a family as wealthy as the Hales would waste money on a car in New York).

 

On the one-year anniversary of Stiles and Derek’s bonding, Stiles had giving Derek a rare book about the Civil War from werewolf soldiers’ perspectives. Derek had given Stiles a key to his apartment in New York, inviting him to visit any time.

This was the first time Stiles was going to use the key.

Derek’s apartment building had a rustic feel to it, which fit with Derek’s secret love of all things hipster. It had a large sliding door made out of metal and after Stiles had unlocked it, it took a bit of effort to slide it open.

It was weird seeing everything out of another point of view. Stiles was already acquainted with the loft, with its large window, and its spiral staircase in the corner that led to Derek’s bedroom – but he had only seen it on a grainy computer screen when he and Derek skyped. It was much larger than Stiles had pictured and much sparser – though that was Derek’s style. It was also incredibly light. Stiles loved it.

 “Whoa, this is awesome,” Cora muttered, seeming surprised. Laura bounded into the room and plopped down on the couch, setting her feet on the coffee table Derek had told Stiles was Italian and very expensive. Talia and Thomas strolled inside at a much more leisurely pace. By the Hales’ reactions, Stiles figured Derek wasn’t home. He squished down the feeling of disappointment rising in him and walked over to Laura instead. He dropped his bag next to the couch and shoved Laura’s feet off the table, taking a seat next to her and ignoring her grumbles.

They had to wait another hour – spent snooping around – before the Hales perked up, a movement so akin to a dog’s behavior that Stiles had to reign in a sarcastic comment.

“He smelled us,” Laura whispered into Stiles’ ear, her eyes focused on the loft door. Stiles didn’t need her commentary, because he could feel Derek’s heart racing. A second later, the door slid open, loud and quickly.

“Wha?” Derek froze, eyes wide and unbelieving. “Stiles? Wha-What are you guys doing-“ He seemed to give up on speech and rushed towards Stiles.

The moment they touched, their hearts thumped a simultaneous loud beat. Derek enveloped Stiles in a hug, uncaring that he was almost as tall as Derek was now. The teenager buried his nose into the crook of Derek’s neck, inhaling the scent of his soulmate in a few quick sniffs. When they pulled away, Stiles caught Cora miming vomiting and deftly flipped her off. If Stiles couldn’t have Derek in a romantic sense then he was going to enjoy Derek’s attention and snuggles for all that he was worth.

Derek turned his attention to his family, beaming, while Stiles became aware of another presence in the loft. A woman was standing at the door, smiling softly at the scene. She was beautiful, about Derek’s age, with nutmeg colored skin and luscious brown locks. There were scars extending from her chin down her neck and Stiles realized with a startle that that was her Red Tattoo - it must be awful, having something so private in such an open place -though, the fact that her Tattoo had scared meant she had lost her soulmate, which must be even worse. She caught Stiles’ gaze and smiled brilliantly.

“Hey, I’m Braeden. You must be Stiles.” She waltzed over, her body one curvaceous, sleek line. She was beautiful. And Stiles _hated_ her.

“Hey, hi, yeah,” he spluttered, “Yeah, I’m Stiles. Derek’s bonded.” He couldn’t help but throw that little titbit out there.

“Derek told me all about you.” She gestured at said man, who was now squished in a Hale group hug. “He’s very fond of you.” At the word ‘fond’ her own eyes relaxed, glowing as she looked at Derek. Stiles felt a muscle in his chest spasm, leaving behind a sharp lingering pain, because there was no way Derek and Braeden were ‘just friends.’ Not with the way she was looking at him.

“Braeden, I know this was a little unexpected, but I’d like you to meet my family,” Derek spoke up, his arms slung over Laura and Cora. Stiles wanted to continue hating Braeden, but she didn’t make it easy for him. She was polite and charismatic and Cora and Laura seemed enamored with her. She even treated Talia with the necessary respect the alpha deserved, (something Stiles had struggled with at first) and she recognized Thomas as a phoenix two seconds into their conversation. Not only that, but Derek looked so happy, gazing at her the same way she did at him.

“Hey,” Derek nudged him with his shoulder, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Stiles asked, bewildered.

“For surprising me. For being here.” Derek grinned again, a small private smile that belonged solely to Stiles.

_‘She doesn’t have that,’_ Stiles thought, vindictively, _‘She doesn’t have that smile.’_

_‘But she has everything else,’_ an irritating little voice at the back of his head sang.

“God, how am I supposed to compete, Scott?” Stiles leaned back against the couch and buried his face into his hands. “She’s the complete package.” His words came out in a warble, muffled by his arms.

“Does she know you guys are bonded?”

Stiles lowered his arms and glared at Scott’s image on the computer screen. It was night time and after a wonderful, yet slightly painful, dinner at an Italian restaurant (which Derek had chosen, knowing Stiles’ love affair with garlic bread – yeah, suck that, Miss Mercenary) the Hales had reluctantly asked Stiles if he would mind if they left for a midnight romp in the woods. Stiles had waved them away, reasoning that he could spend the night skyping Scott. So here he was, mournfully alone in the loft and complaining about his soulmate not actually acting like his soulmate.

“Apparently, Derek talks about his _platonic_ soulmate a whole lot…” Stiles groaned again, before sitting up straight and pointing at the computer screen with desperation, “But-but,” he waved, manically. “I realized Derek’s heart never skips a beat when he looks at her. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Stiles.” Even with the poor image, Stiles could see the pity in Scott’s eyes. “Not everyone’s heart skips when they like someone. Some people feel tingles or butterflies.”

“Dude,” Stiles moaned, “Whose side are you on?”

“Always yours, buddy, you know that. That’s why I sometimes have to tell you the truth, even though it might hurt.”

The loft door slid open, revealing Talia, still looking all regal and put-together, despite her time in the woods. Stiles quickly said goodbye to Scott and shut the laptop before his best friend could say anything.

“I thought you guys were going to be longer,” Stiles gulped. Talia floated into the loft, her gaze piercing and knowing (there went the hope that she hadn’t heard anything).

“The kids wanted to stay out longer and Thomas is still flying.” The alpha walked over to the window, her silhouette framed by the moonlight. “I’ve suspected, you know,” she said, after a beat of silence. She didn’t turn to Stiles, rather speaking to the window. “Since before your bonding, I knew you felt something for my son.” Stiles inhaled sharply, but kept quiet. “I always thought you would make a nice pair and I can’t begin to imagine why Derek wouldn’t want to have a traditional-“ She cut herself off, appearing immediately contrite. “I’m so sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles huffed, bitterly. “It’s fine. I was never one for tradition. It seems that has extended to my love life. It’s just my luck, really. Stiles Stilinski, the only person to ever be in an unrequited love relationship with their soulmate.”

Seriously, it was just his fucking luck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I do this to myself???? It hurts, so much hurt, very hurt.
> 
> Anyway, please let me know about any glaring mistakes - I'm sure there are plenty, because this chapter sucked, but yeah, I need to fix those.
> 
> Things will heat up next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SOOOOOOO much for the support - you are all the literal best! <3 Sorry for the delay, my laptop was taken from me (albeit to fix it, because it was broken).

The first few months at the Supernatural University of California was rough, to say the least. Emissaries might use their Sparks to protect their packs, but so much more went into it than just that. Stiles’ Spark activated when he and Derek bonded and after Alan Deaton – Talia’s Emissary – confirmed it, Stiles knew it was his destiny to nurture his Spark, to become an emissary. What he hadn’t expected was the physical aspect. An emissary has to be able to defend from all sorts of attacks – be they physical, emotional or psychological. This meant Stiles had training, and a lot of it, from martial arts to kick-boxing to parkour.

The biggest surprise, though…was the tattoos.

Each completed course meant a trip to a local tattoo parlor that specialized in Spark tattoos. Unlike university for humans, an Emissary course lasted a few weeks, because many of the things they learned required other things to be learned before they could continue learning, if you know what I mean. In much simpler terms: everything was connected and all the basics of everything have to be taught, before delving into the difficult stuff.

Anyway, everyone knew Sparks were conductors, made to harness and wield magic. The tattoos were engraved with a special kind of magic ink that contained things Stiles was sure he didn’t want to know about. Luckily, Stiles was mostly done with that part. He now had four tattoos, harnessing the powers of the elements (for a while there he had started feeling like he was an episode in Avatar) as well as a tattoo that symbolized his commitment and loyalty to the Hale Pack – with Talia’s permission of course.

The problem arose during the final course of his first semester. A unit based solely on soulmates and the power of a soulmate bond. Even though it had been three and a half years since Stiles bonded with Derek, he still remembered with absolute clarity how the bond had manifested in him. It was created by and consisted of energy and magic, and as an emissary you learn to harness that magic. The professor’s cliché comment about how a Red Tattoo bond was made up of the strongest magic in the world had been met with groans and snorts and skepticism. Stiles – and the few kids in his class who were bonded – knew that it was the truth. No other power they had learned about had the juice to connect two people’s heart – not only their souls, but their physical hearts. A bonded pair’s hearts beat the exact same rhythm, if one became more excited or anxious, the other one followed.

The problem was that emissaries had to receive a tattoo that would harness this power. Stiles didn’t want to. In fact, more and more each day Stiles saw the bond as a curse. He didn’t want to rely on it. He didn’t want to give it the credit of being strong, because it wasn’t – at least, not for Derek. He fought tooth-and-nail with his professors, sure that he would still be able to complete his emissary training without the tattoo. He couldn’t – he would still be able to attend his classes, but he wouldn’t receive his degree and no self-respecting pack would choose him as an emissary. He postponed it, though, exhausting all other options.

And he was glad of it, because the answer to his prayers was staring him in the face. Literally.

It was a Thursday morning and Stiles was in his Alchemy lecture hall – which was more of an underground dungeon that looked very similar to Snape’s classroom in Harry Potter.

The purpose of the class was to teach emissaries to do spells and make ~~potions~~ herbal mixtures which they can then sell and make a profit (and as such a living) out of. Of course, an emissary was also allowed to work if their pack allows it, for example Deaton moonlighting as a veterinarian.

Stiles was, surprisingly, an Alchemy prodigy, if you will. The first day of class he drew the interest of the professor as he made a flawless concoction used to hide scents from supernatural creatures. The professor delighted in his work and was quick to offer her personal library in one of the storage rooms of the classroom for Stiles to peruse.

That Thursday morning, Stiles finished the assigned herbal mixture in a few minutes, allowing him time to browse through Professor Morell’s books. One in particular, drew him in. It was nondescript and small, bound in soft blue material and its gold lettering had faded until it became incomprehensible. The first page read:

**_Spells for Soulmates and Soul Bonds_ **

**_By SS. McAllister_ **

Like previously stated, the solution to all Stiles’ problems stared him in the face, as clear and straight-forward as it could get. And, as if the universe wanted to make up for the horrible way Stiles’ life had been going, the spell was on the first page – written in plain Helvetica font: **A Spell to Make and Break a Soul Bond.**

Stiles was naturally dumb-struck for a few seconds.

And then it felt as if a heavy weight was pressing on his chest. He gasped for breath and tried to ignore his eyes stinging. What was he thinking? What type of person _wanted_ to break their soul bond? It was supposed to be sacred. It was supposed to be cherished. What would Derek think? What would the Hales think? What would his dad think?

What would his mom think?

With that thought, Stiles shoved the book back into place and hurried out of the room. The class was packing up for day, Morrell checking the mixtures and dismissing those she deemed acceptable. Stiles grabbed his things and walked out of the class with his head bowed. He needed to get out. Maybe go to the bar a few blocks over. Maybe get someone that could take his mind off…

Stiles didn’t date. He was still a virgin in every sense of the word. Every time he felt even a spark of attraction towards someone who wasn’t Derek, guilt would settle in the pit of his stomach, making him sick.

So, he didn’t date, and just that thought he had a moment ago, just the thought of having a meaningless one-night stand, was enough to make him nauseous.

“Hey, Stiles!” The shout stopped Stiles in his tracks. He was already in the middle of campus, having been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even realized he walked past Danny – a fellow classmate and future emissary of the Mahealani Pack.

“Hey, Danny,” Stiles said, as he hitched his backpack further up his shoulder and shifted the weight of his books from one arm to the other. “What’s up?”

Danny beamed at him – dimples and all – and Stiles couldn’t help the small fluttery feeling in his stomach. He thought back to his conversation with Scott and he had to concede that sometimes hearts don’t skip beats, sparks fly instead.

“Hey, so you know how you’re the best in our class at Alchemy, right?” Danny grinned at Stiles’ blush. “So, I was wondering if you could maybe help me? I suck and it’s really bringing down my grade.” His lips curved down in a pout, before jumping back into his sunny smile. Now, Stiles didn’t date, but he knew when someone was flirting with him and that…that was flirting.

The top of Stiles’ back started itching and a sickening feeling rose in the back of his throat.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” he hedged.

“Come on.” Danny’s voice suddenly dropped, becoming husky and inviting; it sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine, immediately cooling the itch and dulling the ill feeling. Stiles looked at Danny, at his wide brown, warm eyes, at the strength in the muscles flowing from his neck to his shoulders, at his lean athletic build, at his dimples. He didn’t look like Derek at all. Yet, Stiles was attracted, Stiles wanted.

And that was that.

“Okay, I’ll help, but it’s going to have to wait. I have something I need to do this weekend.”

The next day Stiles snuck the little blue book into his backpack. 

“Okay, so it says here, I’m going to have to use my spark – obviously – and my soulmate – thanks for that necessary info, Captain Obvious – and some mountain ash – that shit can do anything – and some cherries – why? – and a bit of skin from our tattoos – that is hella gross, what the hell – and lastly, I need to draw this demonic looking circle thing. Cool, sounds great.”

“Stiles,” Scott spoke up. Stiles looked up at his friend before looking straight back at the book, because he didn’t want to deal with that look – that part judgmental, part worried look. Scott and his looks could go jump off a bridge (but not really, because Stiles actually loved his best friend and his looks). “Have you really thought about this? About actually breaking the bond?”

“Yes, Scott,” Stiles sighed, exasperated. “I’m tired of being in love with someone who doesn’t love me. I want to know what it feels like to have someone care about me like I care about Derek.”

“Okay, okay, I understand that.” Scott jumped up from his bed and fell to the ground next to Stiles, who was lying on his stomach, flipping through the blue book. “But there has to be something wrong with this spell, like side-effects or something, because I don’t think it’s that easy to break a bond.”

“There might be a little warning,” Stiles mumbled, quickly flipping the book shut.

“What?! What warning?” Scott peered at his friend, eyes wide. “Stiles,” he prompted, voice firm.

“There might be a slight chance that the spell could do some damage to my soul.” Stiles jumped up from the floor and danced away from Scott, rightly anticipating Scott’s swipe at him.

“What kind of damage?” Scott growled.

“Damage of the drifting kind, maybe.” Stiles jumped up on the bed as Scott circled closer to him.

“It can cause your soul to maybe drift?” Scott prowled closer to the bed.

“Maybe!” Stiles flailed. “It’s a very big maybe.” Stiles turned around to jump off the bed and Scott pounced, dropping both of them down onto the mattress – Scott lying across Stiles’ back, effectively pinning him.

“Stiles,” Scott whined, rubbing his cheek over his friend’s hair.

“I know, Scott. I know it’s a risk, but-” Stiles paused, turning his head to the side to catch a breath. “But you know I need to try. I can’t live my whole life in love with someone who doesn’t want me back. It’ll kill me, Scott.” He panted and strained his eyes to try and see Scott’s facial expression.

His friend dropped his head onto Stiles’.

“Have you talked to the Hales, yet?” Scott’s whisper tickled the back of Stiles’ neck. In a sudden movement, Stiles flipped Scott off his back and onto the floor.

“Jackass,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing his neck. Scott knew how much he hated that. “And no, I haven’t.”

“Well, if you’re planning on going to New York this weekend, you have to do it soon.”

“I know, I know.”

“And what about your dad?”

“Oh, there is no way I’m telling my dad about the spell. He’ll ground me for life. I made up an excuse for the visit.” Stiles jumped up from the bed and grabbed the book on the floor. “Speaking of, I need to get home and cook a delicious veggie burger for that father o’ mine.”

Scott wrinkled his nose.

Talia Hale was many things. Many, scary, intimidating things. Like observant. And inquisitive. So when she asked a question, the most prudent course was to answer, even if it wasn't technically a question.

Stiles was sitting in the Hale living room, sprawled out on the couch with an afghan thrown over his frame haphazardly. It was middle November and the chill was starting to set in. Laura was at work and Cora was meeting some friends. Thomas was somewhere in the house, presumably reading or completing yet another crossword puzzle.

Stiles had the little blue book flipped open on his lap, lazily reading through the other spells and having to admit that some were a shade shadier than shady. The television was on, broadcasting white noise that was soothing to Stiles.

Perhaps it was because Stiles was off guard and relaxed that Talia was able to ambush him.

“What are you planning.” The Alpha’s voice popped up from behind the couch. Now Stiles knew where Derek got his lack of punctuation from.

“Nothing,” he answered, casually closing the book and shifting it closer to him and out of view. He craned his neck, only to be met with Talia’s narrowed eyes and looming presence. God, she was terrifying when she wanted to be.

“You’re going to New York.” Talia glided around the couch, allowing Stiles a more comfortable view. He clutched at the book and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Your father called.” Talia lowered herself into an armchair, back still straight and looking every iota like the powerful werewolf she was.

“Yeah,” Stiles croaked out, suddenly nervous. He tried to control his heartbeat, not wanting Derek to worry. “It’s…uh…it’s part of my course. I have to get my soul bond tattoo and Derek has to b-“

“Don’t lie to me, Stiles,” Talia rumbled, her Alpha voice bleeding into the command. Even as a human, Stiles wasn’t impervious. “I know Derek does not have to be present for you to get your tattoo. And I also know that you have been postponing it.”

“Listen, I was planning on telling everyone tonight.”

“You were _planning on_ , but you’ve changed your mind, have you not?”

“I have. It’s- I- I don’t know how to explain, or what to say, really.” Stiles looked down at the book he was clutching to his stomach, half-hidden in the folds of the blanket.

Talia held out her hand, raising an eyebrow when Stiles looked at her questioningly. “Give it to me.”

Stiles wavered a moment, indecisive. Then he realized he had to do this. The Hales were his family, his pack and he could keep it from them, like he was keeping it from his father. But, they were also Derek’s family and Derek’s pack – even more so than Stiles’ – and Stiles owed them this, owed them a chance to be prepared. Stiles held out the book, flinching slightly when Talia took from him. She opened it to the page that was bookmarked, and froze.

 “Derek and Braeden broke up,” she said suddenly, an unexpected desperation in her voice, making her frighteningly vulnerable.

“Okay,” Stiles said, confused. “Why?”

“Does it matter?”

Stiles bowed his head, and then shook it. “No, it doesn’t. So why tell me?”

“Stiles,” Talia rose from her seat and rushed to his side. The gentle touch to his arm was so incongruous with the wild look in her eyes. “You still have a chance. You just have to be patient.”

It was odd, seeing his Alpha in such a state. It made Stiles uncomfortable.

“I don’t and I can’t. God, I love your son. A lot. So much that I would do anything for him. But-but…I see you and Thomas and I see videos of my mom and my dad and I see Scott and Allison and I want that. I want that, but I’m not going to get it from Derek. I’m never going to get it from Derek, because – and god, I’m going to sound like a bitter internet weirdo – your son has family-zoned me.” Stiles chuckled wetly, mortified to realize that he had started crying. “I might get that with someone else though. But I don’t think I’ll be ready to fall for somebody if I’m still bonded to Derek.”

“But you’ll always be bonded to Derek,” a new voice popped up from the foyer. Stiles’ head snapped up to see Laura standing, eyes red and tears dripping from the edge of her jaw. “Jesus, Stiles, why didn’t you ever tell me you’re in love with him.” She stepped forward, unsure.

Stiles rolled his eyes, playfully. “And endure the teasing? No, thank you.”

At that, Laura ran to them, vaulting herself over the couch and falling on Stiles slightly.

“I would never do that,” she whispered as she burrowed her face into his thigh. “I wouldn’t tease you over that.”

“I’m going to break the bond.” It was the first time Stiles said the words out loud. It was terrifying and sent a short tremor of doubt through him. Laura’s head popped up from his lap, her eyes huge. “And you can’t stop me.” He looked at Talia, who smiled softly in return.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Mostly, because no one can stop you once you’ve set your mind to it.”

  


After the confession session with Talia and Laura, Thomas and Cora’s came much easier. Mind you, it was still difficult, and emotionally taxing, but easier.

The night ended in a puppy pile, Laura and Cora spread-eagled over each other and Stiles, who was in the middle. Talia and Thomas were cuddling at the edge, still somehow touching Stiles, be it with an errant hand or foot or elbow.

“I love you,” Laura whispered, wiggling closer.

“I guess I do, too, dork,” Cora jabbed him with her knee.

“You’re the only normal person, besides me, in the pack,” Thomas added, the fondness in his tone sticky-sweet.

“You are pack,” Talia said simply, which was enough of a love confession as any other.

 

Those words were Stiles’ only company as he boarded the plane, blue book clutched in one hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so maybe I lied a little. Next chapter things are heating up! So, yeah, hope you enjoyed the little bit of Hale love and background and stuff... (please don't be angry)  
> xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorryyyyyyy. These past few weeks I moved straight across the country, and real life stood in the way. Thank you all for the support!!! This is short chapter because I wanted to get something out for you guys, so it doesn't contain everything it was supposed to...but oh well...
> 
> So, I've enjoyed reading everyone's theories, but this chapter is going in a vastly different direction! Derek's POV - YAY!

Saturday was Derek’s rest day. It didn’t matter how much he had to do for the following week. He would work his finger to the bone, just as long as Saturdays were his rest days. And these rest days mostly consisted of lounging on the couch, watching series Stiles recommended he watch and eating cereal and bread and whatever else was easily accessible.

This was why the unusual thumping of his heart wasn’t easily dismissible. He was relaxed, no stress – except if he thought about his essay due on Monday – and nothing exciting was happening on the screen.

Derek quickly became aware that it was Stiles’ heart nervously thrumming. He sat upright, one hand coming up to grip his chest. The palpitations were quite extreme…and familiar? Derek remembered that Tuesday morning he had been out with Braeden; how he had felt anxious as his heart sped up.

Stiles was flying.

Derek didn’t know why, but he was 100% sure Stiles was busy flying.

Derek hurriedly searched for his phone, which turned out to be stuffed down the side of the couch, before pressing the number 3 on his speed dial.

The phone rang twice and the second Derek heard that faint click, he asked, “Why is Stiles flying?”

“ _Why, hello there, Der-bear_ ,” Laura responded drily.

“Hello. Why is Stiles flying?”

_“How the hell do you even know?”_

“His heartbeat.”

_“Weirdo.”_

Her voice was fond, but Derek (having lived with Laura for all his life) could hear the underlying nervousness. He kept quiet, waiting.

_“Ugh, it’s for that soul bond course of his. He needs to get a soul bond tattoo and that means he has to be close to you, or something. You know I don’t listen to half the things he rambles on about.”_

Derek felt a sudden hatred towards being so far away from his sister. He couldn’t tell if Laura was lying or not.

“Stiles didn’t tell me anything about this. I know about his other tattoos, I’ve seen them on Skype, but he didn’t tell me about a soul bond one.”

There was a pause.

“He also didn’t tell me he’s coming.”

_“I don’t know what to say, Der,”_ Laura sighed, causing the line to crackle. _“He’s been busy, maybe he just forgot.”_

Derek rubbed his chest, now unsure whether the frantic beating was because of him or Stiles. This wasn’t like Stiles. The idiot usually told Derek any- and everything. And Laura’s tone suggested something else was going on; something she didn’t want to tell him about.

“Is something wrong,” Derek growled. If someone was keeping something from him, he was going to rip their throat out. With his teeth.

_“You’ll find out soon, Der.”_ Laura sounded sad. _“I need to go. Stiles will land in about 3 hours. We’ll talk later.”_

She hung up before Derek could respond.

Derek spent two hours blankly staring at his television screen, periodically clutching his chest as his heart rate skyrocketed before calming down again.

As hour two approached, Derek was brimming with anxiety – a potent mixture of Stiles’ and his own – and in a fit of pique he grabbed his car keys and fled the building, making for the airport early.

It was busy – when was JFK not? – and Derek quickly grabbed an open seat, knowing that it would be snapped up soon. He spent another 30 minutes people-watching, tracking a little girl who was weaving between the crowd until her mother snatched her up, much to her delight, and following a group of teenagers bouncing in excitement as a man – their teacher – gave them instructions and safety regulations, checking that everybody had some form of identification.

Derek looked up at the television mounted in clear sight. There was only one flight from California to New York that was landing in the time-slot Laura gave Derek and it was currently reading: ‘disembarking.’ Derek jumped up, moving to the correct terminal and quickly pushing ahead of the crowd. Even though Derek was worried and anxious he couldn’t help the spike of excitement. He didn’t see Stiles often enough.

After another few minutes, wherein a few people tried to elbow Derek out of the way, the doors opened and a crowd started spilling out. Derek craned his neck and tried to spot that familiar buzz-cut. He frowned when the crowd started petering out and he still couldn’t see him.

And then…

At first it didn’t look like Stiles at all. Sure, it had been about seven months since Derek saw Stiles last, but there was no way Stiles could have changed so drastically. Or, at least there wouldn’t have been a way if Derek wasn’t seeing it with his own two eyes.

Stiles’ hair was grown out, artfully gelled and tousled, his face had lost the last of its baby fat, and his cheekbones were pronounced, shaping his face. His body was still lean, but toned, and the way his shirt fit hinted at defined abs.

Skype hadn’t done his tattoos justice. They looked like they had always been a part of Stiles, and Derek could suddenly not remember a Stiles without them. They curved around both of his arms, highlighting the strength in the muscles and forming a sleeve. On his right arm were vines and trees curving up a rocky mountain face and surrounding a waterfall – it was so artistically done that the water seemed to actually flow. On his left were flames, swept around his wrist and bicep by gales and winds. His tattoos looked alive.

Derek couldn’t help but think that Stiles had grown to be quite attractive.

Stiles glanced up and saw Derek, his face immediately splitting into a wide grin, easing a bit of Derek’s anxiety. He turned around and said something to a guy walking next to him. The man was about the same age as Stiles, with curly hair and a cherubic face – all sharp cheekbones and puppy-dog eyes.

Derek felt a sudden flare of irritation when the guy held out his phone for Stiles to take - he could hear him asking Stiles to program his number in. He frowned, startled at the sudden and unexpected feeling. He shouldn’t be feeling irritated.

The feeling dissipated just as suddenly as it appeared and Derek quickly walked over to Stiles.

“Hey,” he spoke, grabbing Stiles around his neck and ruffling his hair. “What’s up?” He directed at the guy, his previous antagonistic feeling now completely gone.

“Hi, I’m Isaac,” the guy – Isaac – answered, holding his hand out for Derek to shake.

“Derek.” After they shook hands, he looked at Stiles, who had finished typing on Isaac’s phone and was holding it out again.

“I’ll give you a call,” Isaac grinned before walking away, wrapping a scarf around his neck.

Stiles warily smiled at Derek, eyes darting from Isaac’s direction to Derek and back again.

“How did you know?” He finally asked. Derek grabbed the duffel bag that Stiles had dropped onto the floor and together they started walking to the parking lot.

“Your heart was racing in the exact way it did when you visited for graduation.”

Stiles deftly dodged a family who didn’t seem to want to move out of the way, before saying: “Should’ve thought about that. Anyway, surprise!” He shook his hands in the air, grinning maniacally. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Not that I’m not extremely glad you’re here, but why are you here?” He glanced at Stiles, noting that the other man had paled and was clutching at his jacket in his hands, finger caressing over a lump in the pocket. “Put that on, you’re going to freeze to death outside.”

Stiles scoffed and tapped the fire tattoo on his arm – in response said tattoo flared up, becoming brighter. “This allows me to stay toasty warm, but if you’re uncomfortable with my awesome…” He slid his jacket on.

Derek waited until they reached his car, Stiles was situated in the passenger seat and they were on the road before he asked again. “Stiles, why are you here?”

Silence reigned for a long while, Derek patiently waiting Stiles out. It was only when Derek had parked in front of his apartment building that Stiles spoke up.

“I’ll tell you tonight…just…let’s just relax for now, okay?”

If Derek hadn’t been certain something was wrong before, he was now. If it had been about a soul bond tattoo, like Laura had said, Stiles wouldn’t have hesitated to say anything.

“Is everything okay?” Derek tried to swallow back the dread.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered a tad too late for it to sound believable. “Can we get pizza?”

Dinner felt normal. One thing that hadn’t changed about Stiles was that he still ate like a pig. They teased each other, filled each other in on things that had happened the past few months that they hadn’t talked about over Skype and generally enjoyed each other’s company. Derek could still feel an undercurrent of tension. It got worse when the topic of Braeden was broached.

“Your mom said you broke up,” Stiles said. There was something in his voice that Derek couldn’t pinpoint.

“Yeah,” he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, because it hadn’t been a big deal. “She’s a mercenary. She has jobs she needs to do that aren’t here.”

“You didn’t want to try long-distance?” Stiles probed, still a weird quality in his voice.

“No, it’s not worth it. Don’t get me wrong, we really like each other and who knows what will happen one day, but for now, it’s not meant to be.”

Stiles frowned, his mouth thinning into a straight line. He looked upset.

“Stiles, It's 'tonight'.”

Stiles looked up, eyes haunted, but he finally nodded and stood up, heading to the front door. At first Derek thought that he was leaving, but then Stiles stopped at the coat rack next to the door, grabbing something from his jacket’s pocket. When he turned around, Derek saw that Stiles was gripping a small blue-book. Bemused, Derek waited impatiently as Stiles came back to the couch and dropped down next to Derek again. He held out the book.

Derek took it, trying to ignore the slight tremor in Stiles’ hands. The feeling of anxiety and nervousness and fear that Derek had been feeling all day crested. He glanced at Stiles, who was looking at his hands and picking at his nails, before opening the book. It fell open on a page naturally – obviously having been opened on that spot so much that it had formed a crease in the spine. Derek read the title and froze.

He couldn’t move, stuck in place, his lungs static and his eyes unseeing. His mind was the only thing active, running overtime to figure out why Stiles would hand him this book, why Stiles would direct him to this page, why Stiles was here.

“I…I,” his voice cracked, “I don’t understand.” Derek knew Stiles too well to know that this wasn’t a prank, not something this serious, which meant Stiles _was_ serious. “Why-Why would you…What…” He floundered. Stiles finally looked up and Derek was horrified to find that he was crying, his large amber eyes red.

“What is this?” Derek asked, suddenly angry. He held up the book and shook it. “What the hell, Stiles?”

Stiles glanced at the book, eyes heavy. “I want to break the bond.” His voice was steady, and it frightened Derek, because he sounded so sure and determined. Derek stood up, needing to move, needing to do something to get rid of this frenetic, maddening energy and rage within him.

“Why the hell do you want to do that?” This Derek really wanted to know, because he couldn’t think of one single, plausible, rational reason why Stiles could possible want to break their bond.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

…

…

…

“I-…what?” Derek’s mouth fell open and his eyes bulged. He must’ve misheard. There is no way he had heard Stiles saying-

“I love you.”

-that.

“You can’t be in love me.” Derek said. Stiles couldn’t. That’s not how it worked. Stiles wasn’t in love with Derek and Derek wasn’t in love with Stiles. That’s how it had always been and that’s how it always will be.

“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Derek Hale.” Stiles eyes flashed, his mouth forming a sneer.

“But we…” Derek’s head spun. “We have a platonic bond.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, the moisture building up and letting loose another few tears. “More like we have an unrequited bond. Which is exactly why I want to break the bond.”

Derek gaped, his mind still stuck on the fact that his best friend/brother-he-never-had was in love with him.

“Look, Derek,” Stiles wiped at his face, “Do you ever see yourself wanting to be in a romantic relationship with me?”

Derek didn’t. He really didn’t. At all. It’s actually an odd feeling because although Derek did not think of Stiles in a romantic sense, Derek didn’t feel disgusted by the idea. It’s almost as if he was completely numb to the idea – feeling nothing.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Derek finally said, feeling nothing but remorse that Stiles was upset and that Derek was the cause. “I don’t. You’re like the brother I never had.”

Stiles sagged, the last bit of hope leaving his frame and causing him to collapse into himself. He looked miserable, head hanging and Derek could smell fresh tears.

“I want someone to love me like I love you,” Stiles grit through the tears. “That’s why I want to break the bond. I know it’s selfish, but god, Derek. I can’t-I can’t cope with this anymore.”

Derek walked away from the couch, facing the window – his heart was aching, sharing Stiles’ pain. He could feel it. He could feel how much it was hurting Stiles.

Derek had always navigated through life without an issue – his face and body opening a lot of doors - and he could safely say that he had never experienced an unrequited crush, not to mention unrequited love. He knew the pain that he was feeling was Stiles’ and Stiles’ alone and he couldn’t help but feel that he was intruding in on that feeling. Stiles didn’t want this. He didn’t want the bond and he was hurting because of that. The only thing Derek could do to make him feel better was to break the bond.

“Okay," he said, not okay at all. "Let's do it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey GUYS! What is this? A new chapter? Haha  
> Remember how I said the previous chapter wasn't actually finished, well this is the ending for it and I figured I'll post it now, since I took literally forever posting the previous one!
> 
> WE REACHED 500 SUBSCRIPTIONS!!! AHHHHHHHHHH \O/
> 
> Sorry for the shortness!

Derek turned from the window just as Stiles’ head popped up, completely startled with his mouth open wide and gaping.

“What?” He croaked out. “Don’t mess me with, Der.”

Derek frowned, because _fuck,_ Stiles sounded wrecked, like he hadn’t actually expected to get his way.

“Stiles,” he walked forward, “you know I’d do anything for you. And I can see,” not to mention feel, “that you’re upset and I-I don’t-shit, Stiles. I feel like an asshole, because you’re – god - you’re perfect, okay? You’re funny and you’re smart and you’ve really grown into your limbs, but - fuck…this sucks, because I wish I could give you the one thing you want…I wish I could see you that way.” And Derek did. Fuck, he did. But it was as if he had this mental block and the idea of a romantic relationship with Stiles did not compute. “One thing that would be more fucked up than this situation would be a relationship that isn’t real. Like you said, Stiles, you deserve someone that’ll love you like you love me. And if that means we have to break the bond, then – as much as it sucks – I’ll do it.”

Stiles grinned suddenly, brilliant and bright and causing a happy flare in Derek, because that’s all he wanted.

“I’ve never heard you talk that much,” he teased, his eyes drying but still red-rimmed. “And that was an impressive amount of swearing.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but the tension was successfully broken.

“When do you want to do the spell?” To lighten the sentence, Derek dropped down next to Stiles and bumped his shoulder against him. It didn’t work.

Stiles looked at him, suddenly somber again. “Tonight?”

Derek reeled back. Honestly, he hadn’t fully thought it through. He thought the spell would require preparation and that it would be months before something would actually happen.

“I need to go home tomorrow,” Stiles continued, eyeing Derek.

“No,” Derek coughed, “I mean, yes. We can – we can do it tonight, I just hadn’t expected…” He trailed off...he hadn’t expected anything that happened. To think that the previous night he had been blissfully unaware. “What do we need to do?”

Stiles grabbed the blue book from the side of the couch where Derek had shoved it, flipping it open to the right page.

“Okay, so we have to make a circle using mountain ash, both of us in the middle of it,” Stiles grabbed his bag from the floor and pulled out a jar filled with black sand. “Then, and this is the super gross part, we have to consume the physical part of the bond.”

“What.” Derek grimaced.

“I know! This is actually not the most kosher of spells, but uhm, we need to crush some cherries and mix a bit of skin from our tattoos and then eat/drink it. Don’t ask about the cherries, I don’t know.”

Derek stared at Stiles, sure that he was joking. “What kind of spell is this?” He finally said, reaching out to grab the book and Stiles holding it out away from them.

“So, we stand in the circle and hold hands and drink the concoction. Then I do stuff with my spark and that should do it…”

It being their soul bond, ripped from them. Derek sighed.

“Can we do this before I change my mind?” He growled, feeling his wolf rising in nervousness. He reached back and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head. He tried to ignore the longing stare Stiles was sending him and rather grabbed the cherries (fucking cherries) Stiles was holding and headed for the kitchen. He quickly blended the cherries, creating a sort of sludge before grabbing a knife. In the living room Stiles had finished a demonic-looking circle, leaving just a small part open to allow Derek to step over. Derek held out the knife.

“Me first,” he said, turning so that his back was to Stiles. After a few seconds, Stiles inched forward, gently putting his left hand on Derek’s bicep and lifting the knife to the red triskele tattoo on Derek’s upper back. He hesitated before the knife could touch Derek. “Just do it. I’ll heal.”

Ever since Stiles had arrived Derek hadn’t been able to distinguish their heartbeats. They were beating in sync, both a frantic humming.

Stiles finally gathered the courage and smoothly peeled a small layer of skin from the tattoo, quickly shifting around Derek to drop it in the cherry slush in disgust. Derek hardly even bled. But he did turn around to stare at Stiles. That had been a little too efficient.

“Alchemy,” Stiles shrugged and Derek nodded. He was well aware that Stiles was considered to be somewhat of an Alchemy prodigy at SUC. “Me next?” Stiles asked, his unease clear in his voice.

“I’ll be quick,” Derek promised, stepping closer to Stiles. Stiles stood still for a moment and looked up at Derek, breath quickening.

Derek became hyper-aware of how close they’re standing – he could see Stiles’ moles (cute, brown little spots). Stiles seemed to snap out of his stupor and turned around, taking off his shirt as he goes.

Derek took the opportunity to quickly and effectively slice a piece of skin off, not allowing Stiles the time to start freaking out.

“Shit, ow, way to warn a guy,” Stiles tried to reach back at his tattoo – the same triskele as Derek’s – but Derek slapped his hand away.

“Shut up, I grazed you,” he dropped the piece of skin into the pitcher and closed it, giving it a good shake. “What now?”

Stiles didn’t answer him, still pouting, but grabbed the mountain ash and completed the circle, trapping Derek inside. Then he grabbed Derek’s left hand, intertwining their fingers. He visibly sagged, miserable as he stared at their clasped hands.

“Drink,” he ordered. He clenched his jaw and it was clear to Derek that he was trying to stay strong. Derek quickly took a few sips, grimacing at the slight human taste (also cherries, ugh) before handing it over to Stiles, who followed his lead.

After Stiles had put the pitcher down, he stared at Derek, mouth a grim line.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” He asked.

No.

“Yes,” Derek answered resolutely. Stiles’ eyes dropped as if he was disappointed with the answer. Derek knew that Stiles was still waiting for a love confession or, at least, a possibility of a love confession later on. Which was why Derek had to say yes, even though he so desperately wanted to say no.

“I need you to think of that. You have to be a spark in this situation as well,” Stiles shifted on his feet. “You need to believe that we’re breaking the bond.”

Derek’s heart panged and for once he knew that it was his own emotions. Stiles coughed, holding back tears.

“Shit, promise that we’ll stay friends!”

Derek wasn’t sure if they would. He wasn’t sure if this would ruin their relationship. But he would try, he would try because Stiles was family.

“I promise.”

Stiles nodded, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Derek followed.

At first, nothing happened.

Then a sucking sensation started at Derek’s heart – much like an industrial vacuum pulling at his chest, tearing at the bond. Derek tried to ignore the innate sense of _wrong_ , tried to focus on why he was doing this in the first place: Stiles. Stiles. This was for Stiles.

Stiles.

Stiles.

There was a violent tug and then…

Nothing.

Stiles’ hand went lax in Derek’s, slipping out of his grasp. Derek’s eyes flew open just in time to see Stiles hit the ground, smearing the mountain ash barrier.

He couldn’t feel it. That, in itself, was alarming, but then he realized…he couldn’t hear it either.

He couldn’t hear Stiles’ heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Some answers :D
> 
> And some people have been worried: This IS a STEREK story, okay, they will have their happy ending :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh...I am so so so so so so sorry for the delay. If anyone is still reading this, I apologise. It's my first year of uni and things have been busssyyyyy. But I'm not giving up on this fic. And neither should you (or do, I honestly can't ask anything of you guys since I took so long to write this).

Stiles was drifting.

Happily floating through a pineapple punch haze.

It tasted like pineapple punch.

He wasn’t sure it really was pineapple punch.

Pineapple punch was weird.

Pineapples were weird – it’s like pine and apples in one word.

Pineapples kind of looked like pines, but apples? Nah uh.

What was he saying again?

He could hear people talking. A few words wandering alongside him.

‘Okay.’

                ‘Recovering.’

‘Soul’

                                ‘Bond’

‘Break.’

                ‘Derek’

‘Idiot.’

Hey, he resented that last one.

“Hey, I resent that last one.”

Then there was silence, blissful, peaceful silence.

“Stiles?” A voice asked.

“Hmm? Just five more minutes.” He tried to wave the voice away with his hand, but it was too heavy. Everything was too heavy.

“Stiles, can you try to open your eyes?” Stiles knew that voice. That voice was annoying.

“No, wanna sleep,” he grumbled.

“For god’s sake, Stiles. Open your damn eyes.”

Stiles did, having been conditioned since the day he was born to answer and obey that voice.

Faces swam in front of him, blurry and indistinct. Slowly, but surely, blink by blink, the faces became clearer, until Stiles recognized his dad’s frowny face, Deaton’s frustratingly blank expression, Talia’s worried face – which was more guilt inducing than any other – Thomas’ amused expression and Derek’s beautiful and angry eyebrows. There were more indistinguishable blobs behind them.

“Heeeeeeyyyy,” he said, beaming. “All my favorite people in one room, except you Deaton. You’re not a particular favorite.”

Talia’s face twisted.

“Is he alright?”

“Just a little after effect of having one’s soul ripped out and put back together,” Thomas smirked.

Stiles sat upright, which hadn’t been a good idea, because _whoa._ His dad moved closer, grabbing his shoulders to keep him upright.

“What? Uh, what happened?” Stiles tried to think, but all he could remember was him and Derek standing in the mountain ash circle, about to perform the spell. There was a loud _thwack_ , followed by a sharp sting to the back of his head.

“What in god’s holy name made you think it was a good idea to perform a spell that could potentially sever your soul?” His dad yelled.

There was a chorus of agreeing sounds.

“I will answer that question,” Stiles held his hands up in defense, “but first, how the hell are you all here?” He looked at Derek.

“We’re in Beacon Hills, Stiles,” Derek answered, all soft and gentle with his voice, using his dark expression to inform Stiles that he was not happy with him.

“What? How long have I been out? How the hell did you get through airport security with an unconscious person?”

“Why is that the first place your mind goes to?” Laura piped up from somewhere in the room. Stiles was still too disoriented to figure out from where.

“I have some contacts in New York,” Talia interrupted. She stepped forward and placed her hand on Stiles’ back, underneath his father’s hands, which were still keeping Stiles upright. “Stiles,” she continued, voice hushed. “I am well aware that magic can sometimes have dire consequences and after you told me about the spell I did some research and…well, I was just being prepared in case something went wrong.”

At that, his dad spoke up, “It’s thanks to Talia that you still have your soul intact,” and at Thomas’ huff he added, “And Thomas, of course.”

At Stiles’ questioning look, Thomas wiggled his fingers, “Just a touch of phoenix magic.”

“So, now that we have answered all your questions, would you mind telling me what on earth was so important that you had to use a soul-threatening spell?” His dad removed his hands, lifting one to rub at his forehead. Stiles looked at the other occupants of the room.

“Nobody told him?”

“We figured you might want to tell him,” Talia sighed.

“Well, you figured wrong. I’m so fucking tired of saying this aloud,” Stiles snapped.

“Hey! Stiles,” his dad said warningly.

“I’m in love with Derek and I wanted to break the bond.”

There was a collective wince in the room.

Then silence…only broken when Stiles’ dad sadly said, “I never thought you would go this far.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped up, causing another dizzy spell that didn’t dissuade him from yelling out, “You knew?!”

“Of course I knew,” the Sheriff said, insulted. “You’re my son. Do you really think I wouldn’t see the love struck signs? I thought that you and Derek were just taking it slow.” Stiles’ dad turned to Derek, disapproval clear on his face. “And you,” he pointed at him, “how could you go along with this?”

Stiles could feel his heartbeat speed up at that, which seemed a bit odd…why was he feeling this nervous…it could only be because…

“The idiot never told me about the risk,” Derek said, just as Stiles blurted out, “I still feel the soulbond.”

Every head turned toward him.

“That’s impossible,” Deaton frowned, and then looked at Derek. “Derek? Do you feel it as well?” Derek paused for a moment, glancing at Stiles before nodding. “That shouldn’t be. I know this spell and it most definitely should have worked.”

“How do you know the spell?” Stiles asked, sitting up straighter now that he had recuperated some more.

“Because the book it is written in belongs to me.” Deaton picked up the little blue book of spells that was lying next to Stiles on the metallic examination table. Stiles realized for the first time that he was in Deaton’s veterinary clinic, lying on the table in the center of the room. “You found it in the library my sister and I share at the university, didn’t you, Stiles?” Stiles nodded, sheepishly. “And you took it without permission?” He nodded again. “I thought so. My sister would never let anyone take this book out of the library, even if it was one of her favorite students.” Deaton watched Stiles with unflinching eyes.

Stiles hunched his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Why did it not work, Alan?” Talia spoke up. Stiles startled, having forgotten that the room was still full.

Deaton squinted at the book, shaking his head. “I don’t know. If everyone could perhaps give Derek, Stiles and I a moment, I would like to do some tests?”

“What tests?” Stiles’ dad asked, sharply, gazing at Deaton with distrust. Stiles guessed that he was blaming Deaton because it was Deaton’s book of spells.

“Come, John,” Talia lightly ushered the Sheriff out. “I have confidence that Alan will do everything to absolve this matter and ensure that everything goes back to how it was.” Thomas followed and soon the room started slowly emptying.

Scott appeared next to Derek, surprising Stiles, who hadn’t even noticed his best friend was in the room.

“Dude, where were you lurking?” Stiles asked.

“Apparently, there isn’t enough space around the death bed for the best friend,” Scott teased. “Derek just growled whenever someone that wasn’t him, his mom and dad, Deaton and your dad tried to get closer to you. Allison’s also here.” He waved at the direction of the lobby. Stiles grinned at him and rolled his legs off of the table in order to give his best friend a hug. He ignored Derek’s warning growl. “Dude, I was so right about this spell though,” Scott whispered into his ear, causing Derek’s rumble to deepen. Scott pulled back before grinning. “I’m going to go before Derek eviscerates me.”

When he left the room, Stiles turned back to Derek.

“Are you as proud of Scott for correctly using the word eviscerate in a sentence as I am?”  At Derek’s stony silence, Stiles grimaced. “Okay, so on a scale of one to evisceration, how angry are you at me right now?”

“I want to rip your throat out. With my teeth.” Derek bared said teeth.

“Aww, you know you love me,” Stiles said, the teasing phrase automatically slipping out because of continuous use. Usually, it had referred to Derek’s platonic love. Now, it just pointed out the elephant in the room.

Luckily, Deaton stepped in before it got too awkward. “Derek, Stiles. I would like for both of you to go through what you did last night during the spell. It is important to tell me about each and every detail. If something went wrong with the spell it could still have consequences.”

At that, the soulmates recounted their night from the moment Stiles’ plane landed until the moment Derek called his mother for help after Stiles went down. Stiles couldn’t help the swoop in his lower stomach at the pained and panicked face Derek made as he spoke about Stiles falling to the floor and not being able to hear or feel Stiles’ heartbeat.

He was secretly pleased that the spell didn’t work. He wasn’t sure his and Derek’s friendship would have lasted after their bond had been broken and he would rather have a bit of Derek in his life, than nothing at all.

After they were done talking, Deaton frowned once again.

“Did we do something wrong?” Derek finally asked.

“No,” Deaton said, pausing. It was so typical of him to not give more than that.

“Okay, so why didn’t it work?”

Deaton puttered around the room, opening and closing drawers, rummaging through the cabinets. Then he stopped, turned toward the pair and snapped, “Take off your shirts.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Deaton, bro. That is a strange request.” Derek ignored him and started pulling at his shirt, lifting it off his torso in one swoop.

“He wants to see our tattoos, Stiles,” Derek said, exasperated. “And if you want to figure out what’s going on, you need to take your shirt off.”

“Yeah, well, some of us aren’t that comfortable standing around half naked, Derek Hale.”

“You took off your shirt for the spell,” Derek countered, crossing his arms over his bare chest, causing his biceps to bulge. God, he was beautiful.

“Yeah well, I was kinda desperate to do the spell.”

At that, Derek growled once again. “Just take off your fucking shirt, Stiles.” Then he whispered to himself, “Fucking idiot has no self-preservation instincts. Shouldn’t have done that fucking spell.”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, Stiles would find it funny that Derek starts swearing during every emotionally charged scene. Instead of provoking Derek, Stiles reluctantly slipped his shirt off.

Derek jumped on the examination table and Deaton quickly stepped closer, inspecting Derek’s back.

“Derek,” Deaton said in that tone of voice that means bad things. Bad bad things. “What is this scarring?” Deaton gestured at Derek’s Red Tattoo.

“Oh that,” Stiles answered for Derek, knowing Derek’s Tattoo just as well as his own – he could see it in his mind’s eye, a light pink scar in the middle of the triskele. “Derek’s always had that, even before our bonding.”

“I had a girlfriend in high school,” Derek winced. “She was a little upset when I broke up with her.”

“Derek has a tendency to attract crazies,” Stiles snorted.

“Are you calling yourself a crazy?” Derek chuckled. Stiles laughed along, even though it kind of hurt to joke about his feelings. He knew that this was the only way Derek knew how to deal with this situation. Whenever Derek was uncomfortable, his dry humor would come out.

“Derek,” Deaton was still speaking in that ominous tone of voice. “What did she do?”

Derek shrugged, “She accidently hurt me when she threw a vase at me.”

Deaton stared at Derek, gaze unwavering.

“What?” Derek growled.

“Derek, you are a werewolf. You would have healed,” Deaton raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, fine. So, the vase may have been filled with mountain ash. And it may or may not have been accidental.”

“Derek, what the hell?” Stiles flailed around. “Dude, did the bitch do it on purpose?”

Before Derek could respond, Deaton interrupted, “I would say yes, especially because a mark like this, in the center of your soulmark would be difficult to create without intent. She meant to do this.” Stiles’ jaw dropped while Derek sat in silence.

“I think I know what went wrong with the spell,” Deaton said after a minute of silence, “And I think I know what’s wrong with your soulbond.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody is still reading, hi and thank you and I love you and I want to give you cake and a hug and the world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!!! I know I promised hugs and loves and cake and the world, but I've run out because you guys are the best. Seriously! I figured since y'all are awesome, I can treat you to another chapter! This one is a bit of a filler, with a lot of Stilinski and Hale feels.

Let it be known that Stiles Stilinski was generally a non-violent person. Okay, no that was a lie.

Let it be known that Stiles Stilinski was generally a passive aggressive person. He wasn’t the type to idly fantasize about the deaths of people that incite his anger. Okay, no, that was also totally a lie. He always dreamt about Jackson Whittemore’s demise at least once a day.

But the point is that Stiles Stilinski was ready to cut a bitch.

And that bitch’s name was Kate Argent.

“Wait! So are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Stiles asked Deaton after the latter explained what was wrong with his and Derek’s soulbond.

“Yes,” the veterinarian answered passively, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“So, you’re saying that Derek’s ex-girlfriend was wacko enough to do this?” Stiles waved at Derek, who was still sitting silently on the examination table. Stiles wished he would put his shirt back on because Derek’s muscles were glistening under the fluorescent lighting and it was distracting.

“Yes, Stiles,” Deaton sighed, the first sign that he was exasperated. “Derek’s high school girlfriend cast a spell that is affecting your soulbond and is in fact preventing Derek from feeling the true force of said soulbond,” he reiterated, as though saying it again will make it easier to understand.

“Her name is Kate. Kate Argent,” Derek suddenly muttered, staring at the ground.

“So wait, Kate Argent – dude, as in Allison’s aunt? - is the reason why Derek does not feel any romantic feelings toward me?” Maybe repetition _was_ the key to understanding. “Does this mean that if Kate hadn’t cast the spell we would’ve had a normal bond?”

Stiles couldn’t help the rise of fizzy hope bubbling up in his chest…which promptly turned to burning acid when Deaton said: “Not necessarily. You could still have a platonic bond.” He rounded the table. “And this leads me to why the spell didn’t work. Now, the spell that Kate Argent cast was to keep Derek from fully realizing his soulbond, it actually took a bit of the bond away -  or rather never gave that bit of the bond to Derek. Since the spell you tried last night was also meant to take the bond away, the two spells bounced off of each other, making yours void, Stiles.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Stiles rubbed at his temples. The back of his head was starting to ache and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the convoluted logic of magic or if he still hadn’t completely recovered from losing his soul for a moment.

“Maybe I can explain it like this. Since the two spells are so similar, casting them was like fighting fire with fire. All you get in the end is fire. Nothing changed.”

“That still doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t that just make a bigger fire? Shouldn’t more of the bond have been taken away?”

Deaton sighed. “Once again, Mr. Stilinski, you are too smart for your own good. I am tired. You are tired. Mr. Hale over here is tired. Just accept it as it is. If you would like, I can look into the matter. Perhaps I can find a way to reverse the spell Kate Argent cast, but for now, I am going home.” And at that he left the room.

“Dude,” Stiles breathed out once Deaton had left the room. Derek jumped off the table and aggressively pulled his shirt over his head, hiding those ~~delicious~~ abs.

“Stiles,” he growled once he was fully clothed. He stalked forward and loomed over the younger boy. “Promise me that you’ll let this go.”

Stiles gaped, half because Derek was standing really close to him and Stiles wanted to lick him and maybe climb him like a tree for a bit, and half because of the words coming out of Derek’s mouth.

“What? No! I want to fix this.” He gestured between the two of them. Derek caught Stiles’ flailing hands and held them, pulling them to force Stiles to take a step forward and toward Derek.

“Stiles. There is something wrong with Kate Argent and I want you nowhere near her, okay.”  
 Derek ducked his head and then they were at the same eye-level and Derek’s breath was lightly blowing over Stiles. He cradled Stiles’ face in one hand. “I almost lost you today and I don’t want to go through that again. It isn’t worth it, okay. Maybe we should just accept our bond as it is. So, promise me that you won’t do anything stupid again.” His eyes were hypnotic and beautiful, and he had this little smug crooked smile on his beautiful lips, as if he knew what he was doing to Stiles.

Stiles abruptly pulled back, because Derek must know what he was doing.

“Oh my god,” Stiles croaked out, his eyes starting to sting and his heart threatening to split the same way it had when they had bonded and Derek wanted a platonic bond, or the way it had when he had seen Braeden and Derek together. “Thanks, asshole. I thought you of all people would not do this. I mean – really? - using my feelings against me. And I get it now, thank you. Obviously, you have no desire to get to the bottom of this. I guess the thought of actually wanting me is so repulsive that you don’t even want to reverse the spell in case it changed our bond.”

“What?” Derek blanched, “Stiles, no I-“

“You know, I’ve kept my feelings for you secret for _three and a half_ years. Scott was the only one that knew. I didn’t want to risk telling your family because I was afraid Laura and Cora were going to tease me, or your mother and father would tell me that I’m not worthy of you, or something. I didn’t tell _you_ because I was afraid you would reject me. But…I never thought that you would do this. So far, you have joked about my feelings, which I’m not totally okay with, but I get it. But now – what? – you think you can bat your eyelashes, flex your muscles, dazzle me with your grin and manipulate me like you want? No, thank you. Enjoy your flight back to New York, Derek.”

And _wow,_ Stiles wasn’t sure how long he had that cooped up inside of him, but it felt good to let go. It stung, but it felt good.

He stomped out of the room before Derek could answer, finally giving in to the pressure of the tears in his eyes, allowing them to roll down his cheeks. The foyer was still full of people, the Hales, Scott and Allison and Stiles’ dad.

“Stiles?” Scott stepped forward, pity in his eyes. Stiles turned to his dad.

“Can we go home? I just want to sleep and never wake up.” His dad nodded and put his arms around his kid, steering them outside and into the cruiser.

Stiles took it back. He wasn’t secretly pleased that the spell didn’t work and that their bond was still intact. He wanted the bond gone, as soon as possible. After the fight, Stiles just wanted to forget about Derek for a while.

It was on a Sunday that Stiles had woken up at the veterinary clinic, which meant he only had the remainder of the day to pine before he had to go back to classes and school and normal life. Derek kind of made that difficult with his severe heart palpitations. Stiles wasn’t sure what Derek was up to, but it was obviously chasing up his heart rate. _Probably banging some girl and enjoying the unattached life._

So, Stiles spent the day with his head burrowed in his pillow, headphones covering his ears, drowning out any sign of the outside world. He would’ve been okay (not good, but okay) if it hadn’t been for the stupid, fucking soulbond. It seemed to rise to a crescendo as Stiles was listening to Adele’s entire discography.

“Okay, nope, not doing this anymore.” Stiles jumped up from his bed, shoved the headphones off and absentmindedly rubbed at his chest. He then quickly made his way downstairs where he found his father sitting at the kitchen table, files spread across the table and a bottle of whiskey sitting next to a half empty tumbler. The sheriff looked up when Stiles entered.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Ugh, that sentence was dripping with pity.

“I’m just getting some food and something to drink and then I’m going back to my room, where I’ll probably spend eternity. Someday, you’ll find my rotting corpse listening to Taylor Swift and watching _The Notebook_.”

Instead of more pity, Stiles’ father surprised him when he started chuckling.

“You’re just like your mother, you know that?”

And that was probably the only sentence in the world that would actually make Stiles pause at that moment. He quickly opened the fridge and grabbed the milk before taking a seat across his father at the table.

“What do you mean?” Stiles breathed out, not daring to go louder than a whisper lest he scare his dad away from the topic of conversation. His dad sighed and poured some more whiskey. He took a few sips before leaning back in his chair.

“Your mom and I didn’t have a perfect soulbond, you know. We also had our ups and downs. Claudia was a bit of a free and wild spirit and sometimes we would disagree about things – mostly about whether or not something was illegal if your mother felt it was justified.” He chuckled, eyes going misty in remembrance. “Sometimes, if a fight got a bit intense I would go to McLaren’s for a few beers and when I’d get home,” the sheriff chugged the rest of his glass, then poured again. Stiles wanted to stop him, but it was so rare for them to talk about his mother that he didn’t dare disturb the mood. “When I’d get home, your mother would be sleeping on the couch, surrounded by tissues and fast food and soda cans. Some or other romantic comedy would be on the television and soft jazz would be playing over our speaker system. You do the same. Whenever you’re stressed or heart broken, you hole up in your room. It’s the only time you allow fast food in the house.” They chuckled, ignoring the fact that both of them had tears welling up in their eyes.

“There’s just one tiny difference, Dad,” Stiles croaked. His dad looked up at him. “You’d get Mom back. She would forgive you, or you would forgive her and by the end of the day, you’ll be fine. I don’t know if that’s going to happen with me and Derek. I love him, obviously, but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it. He doesn’t want to help break the bond, but he also doesn’t want to help save it.” His dad shifted in his seat.

“Now, Stiles, I’m not trying to make excuses for Derek,” -

“Now that’s a way to start a sentence, Dad,”

\- “But have you thought of this from his side? He may not be in love with you, but I know the kid cares for you. I think he’s afraid that he’ll lose you if you try to break the bond again, and personally I am on his side there. And the same goes for trying to fix it.

“Now, the Hales had listened in to what Deaton had told you two and as far as I know there is no way to currently fix the bond. I think Derek, not to mention all of us, feel like it might be dangerous. You might not know this, kiddo, but there are a lot of people who love you and we do not want to see you hurt.”

Stiles exhaled loudly, and then groaned. “Why are you always the voice of reason? Ugh, can I just get a day to mope before I come to my senses?” He unscrewed the top of the milk bottle and started chugging straight from it, ignoring the disgusted look on his father’s face. “Hey, you can’t judge me, you’re lucky I’m not saying anything about that whiskey.” His dad rolled his eyes. “What are you working on, anyway?” Stiles leaned over the files, quickly trying to scan the gist of it before his dad stopped him. Just as his dad tried to sweep the files into an unreadable pile, Stiles saw a name. “ _Dad,_ why do I see Kate Argent’s name?” The sheriff sighed, resigned.

“Okay, so the Hales told me about Kate Argent, so I had Deputy Parrish bring over any and all files on her.”

“But, I thought you didn’t want me to do anything about fixing the bond. You _just_ said you think it’s dangerous,” Stiles frowned.

“Yes, but I also know you, Stiles. And I know that neither I, nor the Hales or Scott, will be able to stop you from trying to figure it out on your own. I think it would be safer to just be in the loop and actually help you, instead.”

Stiles beamed, “Anything worth telling me?”

“Yes,” his father sighed. “It isn’t good news. Kate Argent has been incarcerated for speciest crimes against werewolves. She is currently in solitary at Beacon County prison for burning entire packs to the ground. No visitors are allowed.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles gaped, “I was kind of joking when I said that Derek attracted crazies, but I mean, damn.”

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to count on her to figure this out,” his dad started shuffling the files into a pile before dumping them into a cardboard box on the floor next to the table. While his dad screwed the top of the whiskey bottle shut and stored it in the cupboard, the doorbell rang. The two Stilinski men looked at each other, both raising an eyebrow in question.

“I guess I’ll get it,” Stiles sighed. When he opened the door, a figure jumped on top of him, shoving its hair in his face and clinging to him like a sloth. Another figure was standing at the door.

“Hey, Stilinski,” Cora muttered, amused.

“Stiles,” the person wrapped around him, who he was starting to realize was Laura, sniveled. “Our brother is an idiot.”

His dad came around the corner and snorted. “See, Stiles, you don’t need Derek when you have two fine Hale ladies such as these in your company.”

Stiles groaned, “Too soon, Dad, too soon.” Then to the girls he said, “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

“Keep your door open,” his dad said and then laughed at himself. Laura detached herself from Stiles and held her hand up toward his father, who quickly conceded the high five.

“Oh god,” Stiles groaned, walking up to room, not particularly caring if the girls followed him, but knowing that they would. Once, they were all in the room, Stiles shut the door loudly, just to mess with his dad.

“Okay, so why are you guys here?” Stiles took a seat at his desk chair, surrendering his bed to the two girls. Laura immediately sprawled all over it and Cora started messing around his room, picking up his action figures and rifling through his drawers. Stiles remembered being embarrassed when Cora had done the same thing the first time she was in his room, but now he had learned to hide any compromising items somewhere where her grabby hands couldn’t find them.

“It reeks in here,” Laura answered, morosely.

“Hey,” Stiles muttered, offended, “I’m a young red-blooded male; I have needs.”

“Gross!” Cora wrinkled her nose.

“I wasn’t talking about that, Stiles – though it does reek of that as well. I meant that it smells sad.” Laura grabbed Stiles’ laptop that was balanced on his bedside table, wincing when she saw the playlist. “Wow, Derek sure did a number on you.”

Stiles swallowed down the lump in his throat before saying, “Thank you, Laura. That’s precisely what I want to be reminded of at this moment.”

“No, no, no. Ugh, I suck at this. I didn’t mean that.” Laura put down his laptop and sat upright. “He was, is, a jerk. And you better believe the whole Hale clan had words with him.”

Cora started laughing. “You should’ve seen it, Stiles. Dad was yelling – Dad! I’ve never seen my dad get angry at anything in his entire life. Even Uncle Peter skyped from Bermuda.” Stiles had only met Peter Hale once since meeting the Hales, and once was enough to last a lifetime. The man was terrifying and creepy.

Cora bounced onto the bed next to Laura.

“The reason why we’re here is because we know that you tend to take things to heart,” Laura’s tone changed into something soft and foreign. “And you need to understand that you completely misunderstood Derek.”

“What? So, it’s my fault now?” Stiles scoffed.

“Oh my god, Laura,” Cora groaned. “Why are you so bad at this? No, Stiles, it isn’t your fault. Long story short is that Derek loves you, maybe not the way you love him, but you’re his soulmate, and he doesn’t want to see you hurt. He thought that he was protecting you, the fucking dumbass. Yeah, it was stupid, but he cares, he genuinely cares.”

“My dad said the same thing,” Stiles grumbled.

“You know Derek would’ve been the one to tell you this, but he had to go back to New York tonight. He has a meeting tomorrow with his thesis supervisor,” Laura spoke up.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Stiles acquiesced. “I don’t think I would want to see him tonight anyway… But I guess I see what you guys are saying.”

Laura bounced up from the bed and breathed in a deep lungful. “Yay, now that that’s all sorted out,” she crossed the room before slapping Stiles upside the head.

“What? What the hell, Laura?” Stiles grabbed at his cranium. That was the second time that day that someone had smacked him.

“Us two,” she gestured at herself and Cora, “are hurt, Stiles, frankly hurt.” Stiles stared at them wildly, muddled as all hell. “We heard what you told Derek and it seems that in these three, almost four years, you’ve known us, you don’t trust us. You said that you didn’t want to confess your feelings because you thought we would’ve teased you.”

At that Stiles rolled his eyes, “Oh come on, really?” He looked between the two sisters. “You cannot in all seriousness tell me that you wouldn’t have made fun of me a little bit.”

Cora shrugged, “I probably would have.” Laura flailed, a move so Stiles-like that Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t have,” the eldest Hale said. “I would’ve supported you. So, from here on out…no secrets.” She turned to Stiles before grabbing his arm and dragging him to his bed. “Now, I demand a puppy pile in recompense for all the emotional damage you caused me today, Stiles Stilinski. This morning I thought you were dead.” She physically manipulated Stiles in between her and Cora before wrapping herself around him.

After a few moments, Cora did the same.

Stiles woke up the Monday morning to a mouthful of Hale hair. Laura was sprawled half over him from the side and Cora had, sometime through the night, wiggled down and was cuddled up with her face smooshed against Stiles’ stomach. It was such a sad commentary on Stiles’ life that he felt absolute no arousal.

What he did feel, however, was dread for the upcoming day.

To say that Stiles was not looking forward to his Alchemy class would be a gross understatement. Alan would’ve told Professor Morell about the little blue book and Stiles doubted that he would ever get the privilege of perusing her library again.

Also, Stiles had a kick-boxing class first thing and he was just not in the mood. He felt drained (he totally blamed the ‘small thingy that happened with his soul’ the previous day for that.)  

His bedroom door suddenly swung open, shaking Stiles from his thoughts, and there stood his dad, neatly pressed uniform on, coffee in one hand and a smug grin on his face.

“Up and at ‘em, sunshines.”

Laura and Cora both started groaning.

“Do you think losing and recovering one’s soul in the span of one weekend is enough of an excuse to skip class?” Stiles moaned into Laura’s head.

“Nope,” his father retorted, way too quickly – he had totally expected Stiles to try and get out of his classes. “If you get up in the next 15 minutes, I’ll make you some pancakes.” Then he waltzed off, whistling a merry tune, obviously buoyed by torturing young souls – no wonder he became a cop.

“Is it worth it?” Cora grunted from below.

“So worth it,” Stiles moaned. “You know I would love you guys forever if you went downstairs and got me some pancakes with syrup.” He burrowed his face into Laura’s hair again.

“You love us anyway,” Laura mumbled.

“S’true, but I’ll love you more.”

There was silence for another few minutes, the three of them on the verge of drifting off again when a shout rang through the house.

“10 minutes! Or else I’m sure these chocolate chip pancakes will be greatly appreciated at the station!”

Cora’s head perked up, “Did he say chocolate chip?” She rolled off the bed, still somehow managing to land upright, and gracefully ran out of the room. Laura followed, albeit at a slower pace.

“Come on, Stilinski. If we don’t get up to dominate the world, who will?”

“Lydia Martin, probably. Or your uncle, Peter.” Stiles stretched out on the bed like a lazy cat. He smacked his lips a few times and ran a hand over his face and hair. “Mkay, pancakes, then shower.” He slowly stood up from his bed and walked to where Laura was standing, waiting.

“You are adorable, you know that?” She sniggered, grabbing Stiles’ arm and guiding him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Sorry, Laura, unfortunately my heart belongs to another Hale.” And that brought all the uncomfortable memories and feelings back in a tidal wave. Derek didn’t want him. Derek did not want him. Derek could not stand the thought of wanting him.

“Come on, kiddo,” his dad said, once he was within earshot. “Here you go.” They directed him to a seat where a plate with a gigantic stack of pancakes was waiting for him.

Stiles’ father, Laura and Cora did their best to distract Stiles during breakfast – well, Cora didn’t do that much, but Laura and his father sure put their best effort in. It actually helped somewhat.

After Stiles had finished breakfast and showered, ready for a day at school, he felt better. A bit hollow inside, like someone scooped a vital part of him out, but better.

“Mom wants you to come over for dinner tonight,” Laura said once they were all standing in the foyer, ready to part for the day.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles nodded, tipping an imaginary hat to his dad who was heading out before turning back to the Hale girls. “See you two beautiful ladies tonight.” He followed his dad out and headed for his Jeep.

“Don’t think that flattery will make us forgive you for yesterday,” Laura shouted from the porch.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Stiles said back in a normal tone of voice.

Then his heart sank.

This day was going to suck. He could taste it underneath the sweet aftertaste of syrup and chocolate.

And he was right. He, Stiles Stilinski, was right. And everyone should just always listen to him for the sake of their livelihood.

His day sucked ass – and not the good kind.

First, kick-punching class was brutal, Stiles had been kidding about the ‘small thingy that happened with his soul’ sucking his energy, but it really must have, because his stamina was non-existent at that moment.

Secondly, Professor Morell had been so icy toward Stiles, which had messed with his head, causing him to make the most horrendous version of a truth potion in the entire class. She made him drink it, and he spouted half-truths at everyone for the rest of the class.

Thirdly, the professor who lectured on Red Tattoos (Professor Finstock) had called Stiles in to talk about the tattoo he was supposed to get for the class, and when Stiles tried to explain the situation to him, Finstock just chased him out of his office, yelling at him to just “get the damned tattoo, Bilinski.”

Fourthly, Danny tried to ask Stiles to tutor him again, but since Stiles had been under the influence of a crappily made truth potion, he had awkwardly answered with a, “I’m in love with my soulmate, but he doesn’t love me back and I tried to break the bond, but it backfired and I lost my soul for a few minutes, and then we found out his ex-girlfriend broke our bond, which might be why I love him, but he doesn’t love me. But he doesn’t seem interested in trying to fix things, and I hate him, but I love him.”

Soooooo, there went any chance with Danny, ever. Also, how weird was Stiles’ life.

“How weird is my life?” Stiles said when Laura opened the front door to the Hale house that night.

“Fucking weird,” she answered without hesitation.

“Stiles,” Talia appeared behind Laura, smiling softly at Stiles and making him feel like a young child. “I apologize for Derek’s manners yesterday. I swear he acts like he was raised by wolves.” Stiles chuckled at that while Laura rolled her eyes. It was a recurring joke of Talia’s. “Laura, go help your sister set the table.” Laura huffed, but did as she told, quietly mumbling about how soon she would be the alpha and she would give the commands. “Deaton wants a word with you, Stiles - in the study.” She turned and glided into the hallway and out of sight.

Stiles could only think of two things Deaton would want to talk to him about. One, he wanted Stiles to start working at the clinic (which Stiles doubted because Deaton must know that he and Scott would never get any work done) or two, Deaton found something regarding his and Derek’s soulbond.

Stiles quickly shucked off his jacket, flinging it onto the hooks in the foyer before quickly walking down the room, into the hallway and into the study.

It was a lavishly decorated room, all dark woods and leather chairs. There was a set of crystalline glasses and bottles of expensive whiskeys. The walls were covered with books from floor to ceiling and an ornate rug sat in front of a marble fireplace. It was probably the only room in the Hale house that betrayed their wealth. Deaton was standing in front of one of the bookcases, flipping through some or other ancient tome…though when Stiles got close enough he saw it was only a copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Figures, Deaton was a fan of the classics.

“You wanted to see me, Doc?” Stiles asked, kind of creeped out by how his voice petered out in the room, stopping dead when it hit the wall. Soundproof rooms were disconcerting to be in.

Deaton put the book back in the shelf before turning to Stiles. “Yes, Mr. Stilinski. I have some information about the spell, the curse if you will, Kate Argent cast.” Stiles was slightly surprised, he thought he was going to have to drag the information out of Deaton. “I paid a visit to Miss Argent.”

“Wait, how? My dad said she’s in solitary confinement and that she isn’t allowed visitors,” Stiles interrupted.

“Yes, that’s true,” Deaton answered, still surprisingly patient. “But I have a few tricks up my sleeve. You’ll find, Mr. Stilinski, that when you’ve been an Emissary for one of the most important packs in North America for several years, that you build up connections. I visited Miss Argent and it took a bit of convincing, but she finally told me that there is only one way to break the curse.”

“What is it?” Stiles whispered, wide-eyed and heart pounding.

“Now, I’m not sure if I believe that this is the only way to break the curse. Kate Argent seems like the type to lie, but she told me that the only person who can break the curse is a Spark.”

“Great,” Stiles lifted his arms up in victory, “that means I can totally do it!”

“Ah, not so fast, Mr. Stilinski. The process is dangerous. And while there might not be a threat of losing your soul, you are in danger of losing your Spark. You see, the ritual requires you to use almost your entire Spark to break the curse, which can be detrimental. There are only a few such rituals and spells in existence and it is rare for the Spark to come out unscathed. As the Emissary of the pack you have sworn loyalty to and as your potential predecessor, I want to advise against doing this.”

Why does life have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t one thing go right for Stiles? He didn’t want to have to choose between his soulbond and his future job. If he lost his Spark he wouldn’t be able to become an Emissary, but if he didn’t go through with the ritual, he may lose Derek – he doubted his and Derek’s relationship will ever go back to what it was. They would never again just be casual and happy friends.

“Why are you telling me this, if you don’t want me to do it?” He asked Deaton after a moment of reflection.

“Because, Mr. Stilinski, in a few years you are going to be Laura’s Emissary. I think it is time for you to start making your own decisions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, what do you guys think Stiles should do? Risk it, or nah?
> 
> Oh, and also, this fic might go over 10 chapters (sorry, not sorry). I'm thinking it might end up being 11 chapters with an epilogue.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever multi-chapter fic (screams into oblivion). I have it all planned out, but I still need to write it, so updates aren't going to be on a schedule. Please let me know if this sucks, or if the plot holes get worse than the ones in Teen Wolf...  
> All the love xxx


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